12/3/08 Honk If You Love Obnoxious Honking

So yesterday I was driving back to work from my little jaunt to the Minute Clinic when something rather bizarre happened. I was sitting behind another car at a red light, just minding my own business and congratulating myself for (wo)manning up and going to the doctor BEFORE I had to be admitted to the ER (which I think shows mucho personal growth, by the way) when the light changed.

Annnnd the guy in front of me just sat there.

Now, I'm not one to be all banging on the horn and waving my arms around, because who of us hasn't been distracted while trying to extract that french fry wedged between the seat and the console when the light turned green and we didn't notice? Exactly. So I sat there for a few seconds, patiently waiting, but the guy still didn't budge and I was beginning to get worried that we'd miss the entire light. So I very very gently and quickly tapped the horn. You know the one where you lightly hit your steering wheel a few times until you can get the quietest, quickest, least obnoxious horn noise possible? One that, instead of being all "GET OUT OF THE WAY, MORON!" it's more like, "Um, excuse me. I hate to be a bother because I know that at this very moment you almost have the wayward fry tweezer-ed between two of your fingers, but I just wanted to point out that the light is green." So I start tapping, but before I can get the polite horn tap out, the car that has pulled up behind me just LAYS on his horn. And holds it down, which is not only horn-speak for "Get out of the way you Moron!" but also insinuates things about your mother and calls your entire heritage into question. And I jump, and I'm sure french fry guy jumps, because he immediately notices that the light has changed and turns right. And I mentally commiserate with him about the rude jerk behind me who is STILL laying on the horn as I turn left and go my merry way.

And here's where the bizarre part happens, because fry guy turned right, and I turned left, and guy behind me turned right, so they're both heading in the opposite direction from me, but I STILL HEAR THE HORN.

And that's when I realize that it wasn't rude guy behind me laying on his horn...it's MY horn! And it's still blowing! Apparently when I tapped it something got stuck, because my horn has been blaring constantly for about 20 seconds now (which is a looooooong time when you are driving down the road with people getting out of your way or flipping you off or just generally wondering what is wrong with this insane person who will not stop with the horn already?!?) and I'm beating on the steering wheel, trying to unstick it, but that just seems to renew its vigor, and now I'm thinking things like "Do I just keep driving? Or do I pull over in the parking lot of one of these businesses? If I pull over, everyone in the business is going to think I'm in some sort of trouble and come running out to see what the problem is. If I just keep driving, people are going to think I have some serious road rage". Either way, blaring horn is mortally embarrassing.

So I just kept driving, and beating the steering wheel, and yelling "SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" at the horn, while mentally sending telepathic messages to all the people around me that I'm so sorry, and it's not them I'm honking at, and I really don't mean what it sounds like I'm saying about them and their heritage, and please don't shoot me or run me off the road or whatever it is that people do to the idiot who is driving down the street with the horn blasting.

And right around the time that I'm debating about just diving out of the car and pretending that I've never seen it before, it stops. Just like that. Deafening horn for 40 seconds, then nothing. Blessed, anonymous silence. It was the strangest thing.

Obviously, the car is either suffering from PMS or demonic possession. (Aside: Tony says he thought they were the same thing. Excuse me while I smack him). Of course, being a stickler for proper car care maintenance, I'm planning on handling it by a) pretending this entire embarrassing episode never happened, b) denying to anyone who may have witnessed the event that I was anywhere within a 10 mile radius, and c) never touching the horn again, ever. If that doesn't work, we'll move on to my surefire PMS cure: liberal doses of chocolate and a good cry over a Lifetime movie.

And then I'll figure out what to do about the car.